Page 101 of Arranged Obsession
“Are you trying to get me to move out or something? What’s happening right now?”
He stares at me in surprise. “I would never.”
“This is weird, Cormac. Even for you. I thought we were going on a date?”
“We are.” He comes over and pulls me against him. His lips brush mine, and he lets out a starved little growl. “I’m not explaining myself right as usual.”
“Slow down.” I kiss him and hold his face close to mine. “Just tell me why we’re here.”
“I’ll show you.” He takes my hand and leads me down a short hallway toward the bedrooms.
“So this is a sex thing?” I ask, not sure what I’m about to find through that door.
“Better,” he whispers, gesturing in at the craziest little setup I’ve ever seen in my life.
There’s a single folding chair. A milk crate with a laptop. And the most advanced sniper rifle set up at the window, aiming through a set of simple white blinds.
No bed. No furniture at all.
Just a gun.
“Cormac,” I say as he strides over and sits down. He peers in through the rifle’s scope, grinning like he just found buried treasure.
“Come here and take a look.”
“Are you about to show me something terrible?”
“You’ll like it.” He holds out a hand, totally sincere. “I promise.”
I hesitate, but eventually I go to him. Everything’s been so fucked up and weird lately, so why not go with this? He pulls me into his lap and helps me lean down to look through the scope. I have to adjust myself, squinting, not sure what I’m seeing?—
Until a window appears. It must be somewhere across the street. “What am I seeing?”
“You’re angry, feather,” he whispers, lips tickling my neck. He kisses me, hands exploring my body as I stare at the room. There’s a desk. A computer. Pictures hanging on the walls. “You want to hurt them, don’t you?”
“For killing Elena,” I say, my heart rate suddenly doubling as a person steps into view.
“I can give you revenge if that’s what you want. I can give you anything you need, feather. We can cut their throats and burn them to ashes. We can make them hurt together.”
“Cormac,” I whimper. His hand slowly slips down the front of my jeans. His fingers curl around my mound, stroking along my pussy as I stare at Taras Morozov through the scope of a rifle.
“You hold his life in your hands now.” He kisses my neck, teasing my pussy. Pleasure, terror, horror, and hate all bleed together in a wild, heady mix. “Go ahead, touch the trigger.”
“I thought… you needed him…” I bite back against a moan.
He takes my hand and guides it to the gun. It’s surprisingly cold and solid. Real metal, a real weapon. Made for killing and nothing else.
“I don’t need anyone but you, feather.”
My finger slides inside the trigger guard. I hold my hand there, shocked at how easily it fits.
All I have to do is adjust the aim ever so slightly until the crosshairs are right on Taras’s head.
Then pull the trigger and he’s dead.
For Elena.
I moan as Cormac’s fingers sink into my pussy. He glides them in and out.
